


Staking our claims, brilliant as the sea

by Nalyra



Series: Stormy blue, tinged with sunlight and tar [6]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Canon Compliant, Claiming Bites, Fluff and Smut, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Murder Husbands, POV First Person, POV Hannibal, Post-Canon, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7974265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Willl have arrived in Marseille and 'claimed' each other.<br/>Hannibal dozes and muses quietly, while Will sleeps in his arms.</p><p>Missing scene.</p><p>Set between <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6572284">Awakening</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6901471">Transition</a>.</p><p>Tags reference the abuse of Season 1, the gaslighting there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Staking our claims, brilliant as the sea

**Author's Note:**

> Guys.... I strongly suggest you get up to date with [A blackish red hue](http://archiveofourown.org/series/446146) because I managed to get surprised by my own plot twist *cough* (in "Resolution").
> 
> Anyway, eventually of course, the events in "Revelation" and "Entrapment" will soon make an appearance and... well Hannibal knows things Will doesn't.

My muscles are protesting and yet I wouldn’t release them now, for nothing except a threat to us, but, as I was informed by Chiyo when we left Paris, this event is highly unlikely and so I hug him to me even tighter, his chest expanding the embrace on every breath. My nose is in the curls at the nape of his neck and the smell of the blood still oozing from the wound I have inflicted there mixes with the heavy odor of my own, running rather freely down my back.

I close my eyes, savoring the hot, scalding pain of the wound he left there, his fingers and nails having wrought havoc to the branding of Mason Verger, with a fury that called to the beast in me, his own a vision to behold, possessive need snarling and released on his features. The skin has come off in a big circle, most of my back scratched and I relish the scarring this will leave, an irrevocable proof of his passion for me, hidden in a place that is just for me to feel, just for him to see. 

I burrow closer, feel him twitch in my embrace, the sweat drying on his skin so close to my lips a tantalizing siren call, and one I know I will probably fall victim to, in the end. I chuckle to myself, trying to relax into the deep relaxation he exudes.

So different, now, here, -my- beloved, from the first time I saw him relax so long ago, in the chair of Abigails hospital room, watching me wearily, unaware I was only faking sleep to actually get him to relax, tie him ever tighter to her and in extension me in the process. Another piece of history between us he doesn’t know, probably suspects, but will most surely be hurt by if he ever learns of it.

How frantic he had been, in that kitchen, trying to save her life, and I, I had been rooted to the spot much longer than I had intended to, floored by the ultimate beauty of him in blood, exuding adrenaline and fear, panic and… arousal. It’s aroma had tickled my nose and even though I had not been aware of myself being enchanted then already, for I am pretty sure now I was, I had recognized the significance of the situation, the opportunity, the… splendor.

I pull at a curl with my lips softly, feeling it glide over my lips, my eyes closing of their own volition. He sighs in sleep, and turns slightly in my arms, the wound my teeth made pushing up to my lips, and my eyes open again to see the front of his throat and the curve of his jaw filling my vision. 

I see him swallow and I gasp quietly, remembering how it had felt when he swallowed around me, remembering… how he had coughed and gagged around the tube I pushed down his throat, how his head tilted back, taking it down, how his eyes fluttered, how I could see the progress of it from the outside. How I had to concentrate harshly on my task, my stomach fluttering, so utterly different from anything I had done before. How I had wanted to press my face into his afterwards to calm him, calm the wheezing breaths, even though I had administered the drugs to keep him docile and unconscious myself. How I had scratched his hands and arms and administered blood in a mockery of defensive wounds, before carrying him to the bed, knowing our relationship would change, for better or for worse, irreparably. 

A drop oozes free and down his back, touches my lip and I close my eyes, my lips savoring the metallic taste that is so utterly him, underlying secondary flavors, a rich smokiness that sealed my fate when I tasted it the first time.  
The first time… I smile softly, a bit painfully, my eyes closing and conjuring the setting, the session of our conversations after Tobias Budges death, both of us shaken and already oh so close. He had had nightmares and I, I had suggested something to help him sleep and had stepped up to my cabinet, hesitating, my fingers hovering.

I had asked and he had said yes, desperate for sleep. I remember feeling a bout of exultation at the prospect of bending him to my will back then, the fierce elation I felt when he allowed me to inject him with the drug of my choosing, willingly, that first time.  
How deeply thankful he had looked at me when I withdrew the needle, the little drop of blood welling up and drawing me in, how he had looked at me with a weird look in his eyes when I bent forward and licked it off, right off his arm, the flavor exploding in my mouth, leaving me shaken and flailing. His eyes had glassed over then, the drug in effect, head lolling back, his short term memory destroyed, only available to me, a stolen moment, one of so many of our early history together and something I know I should regret but cannot.

I sigh softly, fierce joy permeating my soul, at this, now, that we are. A broken teacup, having come together even more beautifully, our history blending us together in beautiful kintsugi.

His breathing hitches and I recognize that he is slowly returning to me, not quite awake but rousing from deep sleep slowly and I smile before I bend forward, finally succumbing to the temptation, licking at my bite, sucking at it, worrying it, wanting it to be there, needing it to be there, there at the back of his neck, where it segues into his shoulder, the slope marred and perfected by my teethes imprints.  
He sighs again, deeply and I grin, continuing my ministrations to the point, feeling the reaction my actions have on his body. His arms break from my embrace and reach up and he surprises me by pushing my head there, encouraging me to go on, slightly turning to me after a long moment. There is no hesitation when he kisses me, his blood coloring both our lips before he pulls back, the grin on his face making my stomach flip.

„It’s a good thing that you cook so richly, otherwise we would be suffering from blood-loss-induced weight loss…“

I bite at his lips playfully, tickling him lightly, enjoying how this makes him squirm next to me, the ribs under my fingers a precious cage for his heart.

„One of the advantages of our special diet is that it is heavy on meat. We will replenish our blood soon.“

I sigh softly into the curls at Wills neck, tightening my grip around his middle.

„It is almost nightfall already. I believe we should get the wounds dressed and then go out and find your rumbling stomach something to fill it with.“

As if on cue Wills stomach indeed rumbles and he laughs, turning, dragging the blanket with him. It gives after a forceful tug and he freezes when he realizes that he just ripped it off the wound on my back, the blood literally flowing down once more. It is not a deep wound and so I dismiss it as inconsequential which must have transported through my gaze because he blushes wildly but doesn’t apologize. I smile slightly needing to know his thoughts on the matter.

„Do you wanna stitch that?“

„Do you wish for it to scar?“

It’s not quite clear which wound we are talking about and Will takes a moment to consider, coming to the subsequent realization rather quickly.

„Yes.“

My stomach flips wildly and I pull him to me, tilt his head roughly and kiss him deeply, slowly, kissing for kissings sake, leisurely, fading it out with soft touches that take away our breaths nonetheless.  
I press a last soft kiss to his lips and then stand up, letting the sodding blanket drop where it will, holding out my hand and Will allows me to pull him up, almost grinning and yet obviously distracted by how my blood runs down my back. His pupils dilate and I breathe deeply, feeding off his arousal and he clears his throat again, grinning lewdly at me.

His grin is like a punch in the stomach for me, raising me above petty concerns of life and I echo it and let him lead me towards the bathroom, in this life we have carved out of destiny together, the future dark red ecstasy.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it, I thrive on kudos and comments!  
> (Criticism is also welcome!)


End file.
